


It’s a constant crawl out of the grave.

by spinefloret



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bugs, Coming back from the dead, Complete, Dissociation, Gen, Lazarus Pit, NO EDITING I DIE PROUD, Poetry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rebirth, Trauma, this is REALLY WEIRD POETRY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 23:36:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11428605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinefloret/pseuds/spinefloret
Summary: When did you get comfortable carrying a gun?This face is not the same face it was before. These ribs carve too wide. Your eyes are crooked, somehow.





	It’s a constant crawl out of the grave.

  
  
  
  


_“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,_

_“Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?_

_“Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?_

TS ELLIOT

  
  
  
  


When did you get comfortable carrying a gun?

 

This face is not the same face it was before. These ribs carve too wide. Your eyes are **crooked** , somehow.

 

You’re older than you ever remember being. Comfortable in your skin, but outside it all the same, your hands trace phantom paths past lessons learned through steel, through **betrayal,** through clung-to dregs of d e s p e r a t i o n.

 

Sometimes, you swear the splintered dirt in your nailbeds will **never wash out** . That you can never gasp out the smoke curled in your lungs, bugs in your teeth, _Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte-_

 

You burst forth like a blossom, chemical eternal, horror glistening- how did you wilt? Stutter-back MEMORIES and roots gone dry, eternal maggots chewing and kissing. You were a sour **miracle,** a gift gone _wrong_. Didn’t it hurt? It’s a wonder. Some days headlights and the damp film of stone burn your eyes. Others, you can’tevenmove.

 

After that, all you have is     h   a   z   e-       _dreamy_ and _liquid_ , scattered snippets of EUPHORIA and FURY- bridled passion ringing clear through the radio static. Lessons _crooned_ in lullaby, clarity coming in fitful sleep. A guiding hand. A harsher fist. Lost causes and **just revenge.**

 

Rebirth through fire, flesh through curse, sticky, gentle, and livid. A _live nerve_ , wound up and tossed away. It’s no wonder you     imploded…....is it? Missing t i m e, it’s yesterday and years and minutes and tomorrow the earth swallowed and spat you out. Too much. Poked into the tidal grief, launched into the knife- it seems **everyone but you** knew that this would end with your throat _slit_ and mouth foamy.

 

The next time you woke, it was months of clinging to a trigger, wasn’t it? S o m e o n e ’ s body became yours, didn’t it? _Who bloomed while you watched_ through the door slats? _Who took root_ and shared your screaming spit, your twitched pity, your **vengeance?**

 

You always feel COLD but you always run HOT. You feel everything through everypore and everyhair or you live in the        empty stratosphere.              It’s quiet out here.      Simple pleasures keep you going, petty **vendettas** push dirt and bile back to belt buckles and _please, please, ohgodohgod p l e a s e HELPME let me O    U        T_ -

 

The grass grew back over your womb, did you know that? They were hungry since you left. Everyone pretends you’re still swaddled six feet under. It’s easier that way. It’s a constant crawl out of the grave. **_Do dirt clods still fall out of your ears?_ **

  


**Author's Note:**

> look i can only write when i can't sleep and it always turns out to be REALLY FUCKING WEIRD POETRY okay
> 
> someone please help this boy


End file.
